Blitz
by Banana Kisses
Summary: Exiled since childhood for nearly killing Elsa, the heir to the throne, a young Anna has plagued her elder sister's nightmares for as long as Elsa can remember. The flame princess had been presumed dead, gone, forgotten. But now, as Elsa rises to the throne of Arendelle, the vengeful Anna returns with a single vow: to rid Arendelle of both their queen and their livelihood.
1. Prologue

_"And I'll cry until the candles burn down this place...I'll cry until my pity party's in flames..."_

* * *

She was lying on a burning pyre, smoke invading her nostrils and filling her lungs. Flames leaped across her body. So hot, so hot, her dress as well as her skin peeled away, revealing her bare body and bubbling, blistered flesh. The smell of burnt meat wafted through the embers. Through the chaos, she could hear screams of rage and furniture being torn apart.

She wanted to cry, but found that her eyelids were scorched off, rendering her eyes useless. Her room of lovely ice was being melted to nothing, but the flames still roared, unfazed by the abundance of water. It sizzled and dripped…dripped… _dripped…_

Elsa opened her eyes and was met with liquid dripping on her nose. Icicles had formed on the ceiling and were now melting slowly, wetting the carpet and the sheets. Afraid to move in fear of freezing her entire bed, she closed her eyes and steadied her breathing. The taste of smoke lingered on her tongue like a bad smell.

Once her heartbeat returned to normal, Elsa propped herself upright against her pillows. Dim morning light poured in through the curtains, cloaking the princess' chambers in a pale glow. She rubbed her eyes, trying to chase away the remnants of her nightmare. She had been having them ever since the ambassador from Corona had arrived to announce King Adgar and Queen Idun's disappearances. Their ship had capsized in the middle of an awful winter storm, killing everyone on board and putting Elsa in charge of Arendelle.

Her parents hadn't even been gone for a week before the court scrambled to organize Princess Elsa's coronation. The woman in question had barricaded herself in her study, crying her heart out in an igloo. But now, her expected time of mourning had passed, and she had no choice but to give audiences and run court meetings in place of the king. The funeral, memorial, was kept short and private, and Elsa guided Arendelle through their grief and saw them out to the end of winter.

This was not the first time that she stood in the cemetery, crying over the loss of family. Her parents said that it wasn't anyone's fault. The beasts roaming the mountains had been particularly vicious that year, and no one could expect a weak little girl to defend herself against such creatures. They had found over ten bodies littered around the crown-sanctioned fort, the lost princess and the caretakers and soldiers that had been sent to check up on her. Now, the gloomy stone building stood empty, filthy with blood and ash, the walls burnt a horrible shade of black, and countless trinkets once belonging to the young Princess Anna.

The king and queen had cried, asking themselves where they had gone wrong, why they had to have been cursed with powerful children. Elsa didn't really know how to feel about her younger sister's death. It was because of her that she walked through life with a horrible burn scar on the left side of her face, and it was because of her that she couldn't escape the nightmare that had been plaguing her for far too many years now.

She imagined that if the roles were reversed, if Elsa had somehow frozen Anna's brain or whatnot, the younger princess would hate her forever. Elsa had often teased her for being the cute little runt, always setting curtains on fire and making the maids go mad. Anna would laugh and throw insults in return, but Elsa could always tell when Anna truly was angry. The teal in her eye would ripple like the ocean and her hands would tremble at her sides. Her face, smeared with hatred, had always been the object of countless nightmares.

By the time Elsa had the time to scream, it had already been too late.

* * *

 **Wow, it's been a while since this has been down...since I first wrote this fic two years ago, I've taken it down, pondered it, and finally decided to rewrite it into something better. I hope that you all enjoy this improved version of Blitz, and if you want more, please review, favourite and follow!**

 **~Banana Kisses**

 **(NOTE: To the reviewer who has been harassing me since I took down said fic two years ago...(Blitz Lover, Elsa Lover, whatever), just because I put this back up DOES NOT mean that I invite you to bombard my review sections with spam and abuse. If you want to tell me something, you say it ONCE, and I leave it at that. All spam or repeat reviews will be deleted. Thank you for cooperating.)**


	2. One

"Is it done yet?! I'm _starving_ over here!"

Kristoff let out a grunt, balancing a bowl in one hand and filling it with hot soup from a ladle. "Just give one minute, _Madam_ ," he said mockingly, turning on his heel. "For you, the model of patience."

Anna rolled her eyes and sat back in her chair. She watched with a grin as Kristoff bat his eyes and curtsied like a maid. It wasn't elegant at all, far from it—a buff mountain man wasn't exactly built for _curtsies_ , rather squatting as he harvested ice.

"Thank you," Anna said, drinking the soup straight from the bowl. Spoons have always been overrated, especially when one has just come back from a rigourous morning of sawing through ice. Kristoff pat her on the head as he sat down with his own bowl, and Anna swatted his hand away with annoyance.

"I don't like it when you touch my wet hair."

"And that's precisely why I do it."

Anna gripped the bowl tightly, a menacing frown on her face. Her hair's dampness instantly evaporated into light steam, and her head was left as dry as desert sand. Her throat burned, her sinuses filled with smoke, and she could taste the ever-familiar sting of flames licking across her tongue.

This, she made herself realize, was the universal sign to _calm down_ , lest she set the cabin ablaze.

A puff of smoke escaped her lips, and she deflated.

"So, how much dough did you rake in today?"

Anna took a sip of her milk. "Way more than you, at any rate. Over five sleds. The boys were impressed," she crooned.

 _The boys_ being the other harvesters. Anna enjoyed showing off in front of them, and not only her mining skills. It was always fun to see their eyes widen and lips part when she would sway her hips and make a show of bending over. Kristoff had been the only one to ever know more of Anna's teasing, but it had never become anything more than kissing and petting, for there was always that perpetual fear of accidentally burning him alive. Anna could tell that it disappointed him as much as her, but there was nothing that could be done. Sex was not worth his life.

It was probably for the best, anyway. Anna knew very well that he was in love with her—had been since they were children—but she was certain that she didn't requite this love. He was her friend, her dearest and only friend, but that was it. He was always there, he always consoled her, stuck around her when no one else would. It did make her feel guilty, when she would kiss him and touch him to satisfy her hormonal teenage lust, knowing that he took it as something more than that. But it couldn't be helped. Let him pine all he wanted—she didn't owe him anything.

She kept on telling herself that.

Instead, she saw their relationship as something of a business transaction. She had saved him from the wolves, so many years ago, and in return, he had given her a place to stay. Over the years, Kristoff had graciously taught Anna the art of ice harvesting, and to repay him, she created for them both a sort of enterprise, and they always had more money than they knew what to do with. Her powers over heat and fire made for an excellent means of slicing through ice and propelling the blocks with the force of steam. The cut was always precise, flawless, and the people of Arendelle paid well for these marvels in the blistering months of summer.

It was once again the month of June, the beginning of the warm weather, and Anna knew she could use ice rounds as an excuse to go down to the kingdom. But then, Kristoff would insist on going with her. He always did. He knew her secret, and so lived in constant fear brought on by harboring the fire princess. Anna should've been even more afraid for her own safety than he was, but she found that it never really got to her. She was strong enough to defend herself.

She finished her bowl of soup eagerly. At once, she slammed it down on the table; this made it shake awkwardly. If Kristoff noticed, he didn't seem to mind.

"Well," she clapped her hands together, "that was some fantastic lunch, and I believe I am to be off now."

He raised an eyebrow. "Going back out on the lake already?"

"I'm going to Arendelle. We need something else to eat aside from game and carrots," she sighed.

His expression went from playful to disapproving. "You know I don't like you going down there at all," his voice lowered, "and especially not alone."

She threw her hands up in the air and let out a groan. "Oh, Kristoff, I'll be fine! I just...need some time to myself."

"I'd like to not take any chances."

Anna huffed. She loathed when he played the overprotective big brother. She was seventeen, nearly a grown woman, and could do very well on her own. "I don't need a babysitter."

"Of course not," he ran a hand through his hair. "But I don't really want to hear word that Arendelle has been reduced to ashes by the time you come back."

"I'm buying food, maybe a new dress or something, and then going home. That's it. There will be _minimal_ contact with strangers," she seethed.

"You swear?"

Anna held up a hand, and the other palm came to rest on her chest. "I swear by my own royal name, that if I, Anna of Arendelle, do not return safely, Kristoff Bjorgman will be to punish me as he sees fit."

Kristoff's frown deepened into a scowl. " _Be careful,_ " he hissed.

"Oh, it's not like anyone can hear us out here. You need to _re-lax_."

She knew why he worried. She was as good as a common criminal to the people of Arendelle, and they both knew that her name was something that everyone in the area tended to avoid. You never knew when a royal spy could be lurking about in town or in the outskirts of the kingdom. The Princess Anna had been declared dead some years ago, but she was sure that King Adgar would be sure that any trace of his dangerous offspring be wiped away before the people could panic. It was vital that they keep a low profile.

But here, in the safety of their shared home, she didn't think it posed much of a threat.

Anna hastily tied her now-frizzy hair into pigtails. Her skin, still very warm, heated the fabric of her thick clothes. The dress and cape were all for show—she was a living furnace, and could go out naked in the snow if she were so inclined. But that would be most unwise, she figured. Normal girls did not go out in the nude.

There were still traces of snow outside the cabin, but Anna knew that they wouldn't remain there for long. The sun was peering through the clouds, tentatively—it was waiting for permission to reveal itself. The lingering winter had not yet granted it freedom from the grey confine.

The walk was long and tedious, but after an hour and some, Anna made it to the outskirts of the small kingdom. The path to the main town was void of any people, oddly enough. Normally there would be a glut of men, women and children milling about. The town was always a living organism. She took in a deep breath, not even caring to conceal the puff of smoke that came out upon exhaling. A bag slung over her shoulder and a hood concealing her red hair, she plastered on a small smile and crossed the bridge over the fjord.

In town, the situation was not much better—windows were closed, the streets all but deserted, the flower wreaths that had been hung up a few weeks before completely dried up and dead. Anna frowned, clutching the strap of her bag. She couldn't help but feel nervous. Inside the butcher's shop, she finally saw a decent amount of people, all lined up to make their various purchases. Anna never liked waiting in line, but she breathed deeply, took her place and summoned patience. _L_ e _t's see,_ she pondered, _I need meatballs, chicken, rabbit..._

"May God grant them clemency, the poor souls."

She stiffened. The man in front of her had whispered this, and she couldn't help but lean a bit forward to listen in. This was how she usually found out about happenings around Arendelle; the people knew more than anyone. She made sure to keep her head down and gaze elsewhere, to avoid being caught.

The man's companion nodded and put a fist over his heart. "My greatest condolences to you, citizen."

"To you too." The man sighed and adjusted his collar. "Her Highness will take care of us now."

Anna's blood simmered, although her gut clenched with something cold. _Her Highness._ She had come to deeply resent those words, that title. She could tell that her cheeks had flushed an embarrassing shade of red, and she took care to keep her hood lowered. To her relief, this wasn't at all suspicious—many people in the shop had concealed their faces in obvious mourning. Anna had a pretty good guess as to who they mourned for, but she didn't let anything show. It was never good to assume.

The two men in front of her finished up at the counter and left their spot to her. She stepped forward, her gloved hands holding out silver coins. "Three kilograms of meatballs, one chicken, and one rabbit, please," she managed.

"That will be forty pounds, plus ten as tithe," said the butcher.

Anna's frown deepened. She looked up to see that even the butcher, who was usually in high spirits, looked grey, his shoulders hunched and his face dark. "A tithe for what, Sir?"

He grunted. "For the funeral."

"Whose funeral, Sir?" When his brow furrowed, she cleared her throat. "I apologize. I have been out in the woods for several weeks and have not heard any recent news."

The butcher let out a long sigh. He glanced about at the other customers, who paid no attention to them. "We have received word two weeks ago that Arendelle's main transport ship was capsized in a storm. Every soul on board is lost, including our king and queen."

Anna's lips parted and her fingers slowly moved away from the counter. Her order remained untouched. She was about to express shock, or disbelief, but thought better of it and said the proper thing instead. "My deepest condolences, citizen."

"As for you, Miss. Now, the fifty pounds?"

Anna smiled sheepishly and placed the bundle of coins into the man's waiting hand. She then grabbed the cold pack of meat and stuffed it in her bag. "Do you have any ice, Sir?"

"Why?"

She forced her face to remain cheerful. "It's a bit of a way to home, and I wouldn't want this spoil."

It wasn't even a lie—she knew that the meat would rot and begin to smell before she even left Arendelle. Either that or it would cook right in the bag. Neither option was a desirable one.

The butcher grunted as he lifted up a whole chunk of ice, nearly as big as Anna's two fists combined. She made a face as he placed it in her bag, on top of the meat. "Thank you."

"Have a good day, Miss." He peered over at the throng of people in his shop. "Now beat it. You're hogging up the line."

Anna was quick to obey his command. Her entire body was scorching beneath her dress, and if it weren't for the special fireproof undergarments that covered her skin at all times, her clothes would've already been scorched away to nothing. She once again lowered her head, intent on making her way to the bakery before the crowd migrated there as well.

* * *

Every time she heard footsteps softly following her, Elsa would fill with hope that it was her parents—but it was always just her own stupid guards following a short distance behind. This was beginning to become quite irksome, but there was not much she could do. Her childish foolishness would always kick in before her rational thought could.

Today, she had three extra men assigned to protect her as she went about town, from home to home, to help comfort her subjects. It was not an easy nor a particularly amusing task, but it had to be done. She was to be, after all, their queen in just a short little while.

The thought made her shudder. It was not from cold—nothing ever made her feel chilled. But she couldn't help but feel like her toes were freezing over, as were her fingers; if she didn't find a way to warm herself, she would become an ice cube and rule over no one.

Suddenly, there was something in the air, something horribly hot, that made her stop in her tracks. Her guards halted immediately after. She stood on the pavement, her hands hidden in her sleeves, her eyes wide and afraid. It was much too strange for the princess in her fragile state of mind.

"Your Highness?"

She held out a pale hand, careful not to let anything shoot out. It was taking all of her self-restraint to not freeze the ground she stood on. "Just give me a moment." She lifted her head. There was no one else on that street aside from Elsa and her entourage—until a figure came stalking out from around the corner. Elsa saw the shadow creeping up, then the hooded figure. A girl, she assumed, to be relatively short and harmless. The princess released a long breath, and a little puff of frozen air escaped her lips. The tiniest snowflakes shook loose from her braided bun.

Just as Elsa made the first step to continue on her way, the girl stopped next to her. The air was rife with a tension that made Elsa's stomach twist in knots. A cold sweat began on her neck. She could not remember the last time she had felt this anxious, and although she knew that it was likely due to her grief and insomnia, she couldn't stop the fear that coursed through her veins. The hem of her black skirt began to frost over.

The girl bent down into a respectful curtsey. "Your Highness," she said, her voice soft and ghost-like.

This was simply common courtesy, Elsa reminded herself. This is what every citizen did when they encountered their crown princess. "Good Afternoon. Is everything well with you?"

The girl nodded. "Yes, yes." Suddenly, she lifted her head up completely and the hood gently slid back. "May I offer my sincerest condolences to you, Princess, for your loss. A great sadness sweeps Arendelle without its monarch."

Elsa stammered, trying to regain her composure. Now that she could actually see the girl's face, she felt even more unhinged. Something about her eyes—it was awful. "Thank you," she finally managed.

A small smile spread on the girl's face. "I do wish you all the best during this difficult time. I'm afraid that I must be going now, though. I am expected elsewhere."

As they drew even closer, as was needed to pass by each other, Elsa's skin reddened and her flesh became a mess of goosebumps. That girl was incredibly warm, to the point of causing Elsa discomfort. Even after she retreated down the street, far away from where she was headed, Elsa still felt her heart thumping in her ribcage. She tried to calm herself. It was okay. She was simply paranoid and tired and scared of the rickety future that now awaited her. She continued down the cobbled road, and the sun began to break through the clouds. It seemed to light up her skin in a lovely way. If her guards were concerned about her nervous behaviour, they made no comment. Not that they would've dared otherwise.

Already, the picture of the girl began to fade from her memory, like her constant bad dreams that would dim after she awoke each morning. The teal eyes would close and stop spilling those endless tears.

And the fire would stop burning.

* * *

 **If you like this story, please be sure to favourite, follow and review! Every read is so greatly appreciated!**

 **~Banana Kisses**


	3. Two

Elsa's study had become a winter wonderland. Thanks to her nerves and nausea, her control over her powers were reduced to nothing and she once again became a living ice cube. As much as it was a nuisance, Elsa knew that this needed to happen—whenever she bottled up the cold for too long, it would come out in uncontrollable bursts. It was also the only thing that could help with her unnatural fever.

Beside her desk, Olaf sat with his back to her, mumbling to himself. He took to a pile of snow and insisted that he was making himself some little brothers. The results of these efforts, which were nothing more than haphazardly-shaped lumps, lay behind him, abandoned. As she watched him, Elsa noted that his carrot nose was beginning to dry up again. She would have to change it, lest it shrivels up and falls off on its own. Olaf had been very upset when that happened for the first and last time, before Elsa knew to always have a carrot on stand-by.

She let out a long breath. A cloud of fog escaped from her blue lips along with a tiny flurry of snowflakes, and she smiled. She had always found those pretty. When a knock echoed against the door, her smile melted away and she sat up straight; she tried not to sheepishly shove away the mounds of paperwork that she had not yet bothered to touch. "Who is it?"

She heard Kai, her footman, clearing his throat. The man sounded tired. "Prince Hans of the Southern Isles requests an audience with you, Your Highness."

Her cheeks warmed again, pleasantly this time, and she put a hand to her chest. "Of course, tell him that I await his presence eagerly. Also," she mused, "do remind him to bring along a coat and gloves. I am having another… _moment_."

She imagined him chuckling behind the door. "Yes, Your Highness."

Elsa leaned back in her lush chair, her eyes locking with Olaf's. He had turned his head, curious. "Hans is coming over?"

"Yes," said the princess, brushing back her hair. It was loose, in light waves down her hips. "You're going to behave, aren't you?"

Olaf smiled. "Don't I always behave?"

"You stuffed snow down his pants last time."

He shrugged. "Hans called you a bad word. He deserved it."

Elsa's response was cut short by a second knock on the door. Olaf seemed annoyed by this and stood up.

"Come in," the princess called.

Prince Hans entered the room just in time to see a snowman with three twigs for hair, two three-pronged sticks for arms, a lumpy carrot nose, coal buttons and a wide grin waddle on his little snow legs in front of him. Olaf came to a stop and stared at the prince straight in the eyes.

Hans seemed startled, and he stepped back. His red hair, damp from a recent bath, had already frozen. He held up a gloved hand. "Ah, Olaf. It's a pleasure to see you again."

The snowman narrowed his eyes. After a moment, he loosened up and wrapped his arms around Hans' legs. "Hello! I'm Olaf, and I like warm hugs!"

"Olaf, leave Hans alone," Elsa laughed. She came out from behind her desk and curtsied to her new guest. All formality, always with the formality.

Hans bowed in turn. Something about his presence made her quiver, and she could feel tears prickling the back of her eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Elsa. My family also sends their dearest condolences," he managed to say.

Her tears were crystals by the time they fell to her skin. She sniffed and righted herself. "Please, excuse my…my current state of mind. I'm afraid I'm not myself at the moment."

Hans' gaze softened. "Don't apologize. Anyone in your situation would be out of sorts."

She brushed her hair back again, her skin glistening. She couldn't remember the last time it had been this bad. "You must be cold."

Hans chuckled. "I'm fine. I've seen much worse, trust me."

He was lying. His teeth chattered, his nose and ears were red, and his hands trembled at his sides.

"I can't help it. I'm trying, but…" She looked at the ceiling. Icicles had formed there hours ago and continued to stoop down into the room. "I saw something today. It terrified me, although I'm not sure why."

"Tell me. Perhaps that will make you feel better." Hans pulled up a chair. Elsa instantly fashioned herself a simple seat, made of pure ice, and settled down on top of it. The cold directly on her body made her skin harden even more, but it was a strange relief. It kept the painful heat away.

"I ran into a girl. She didn't make any threats or do anything suspicious, she just bowed to me and offered her condolences, but then I saw her eyes. They were big and blue. I felt incredibly anxious and afraid, even more than at the funeral…I think it was because they reminded me of a bad nightmare."

Hans frowned. "I didn't think that you were one to let nightmares get the better of you."

She held back a huff. "How well do you really know me, Highness? We see each other three times a year, at most," she reminded him.

Suddenly, his hand reached out to hers. "Still, you've always seemed so tough. So _cold_ ," he insisted.

Indignant, she gripped his hand in her icy fist. He let out a cry of pain; if he didn't have frostbite already, he surely had it with that. She knew what he was going to do—he was going to stroke her cheek, his universal gesture for reassurance. She had seen him doing this very thing to his cousins, ladies, and maids. But Elsa had made it abundantly clear that she did not want her face touched, and especially not that side. The hideous burn scar was something that she wanted to be left alone.

"I'm sorry," he hissed, trying to chase the cold from his sore flesh. "I forgot about that. Please, forgive me."

"I've told you time and time again."

"And I forgot. That's what people do, Highness. They forget things."

"Elsa, he's being mean to you again." Olaf came waddling next to her, an unusual frown on his face. "Should I kick him out?"

Elsa sighed. "No, Olaf. Please. I don't want you to interfere with my meetings."

"I suppose," Hans crossed his arms over his chest, "that since my presence here is a hindrance, I should just get straight to the reason that I'm here. Once you have been officially crowned queen, Highness, my father asks that we set a concrete date for the wedding."

Elsa leaned back. Of course, condolences wouldn't be the only reason for Hans' visit. He would never burden himself for something like that.

"Yes, I suppose that our marriage is now a pressing matter to both our kingdoms," she sighed.

"A wedding? Oh! I've never seen one of those before, although I've heard the maids talking about them…" Olaf but his twiggy hands to his mouth. "Will I get to see your wedding, Elsa?"

"Maybe. My wedding will be a very big event, though. People from all over Europe will be there, and you know how I like to keep you a secret," she laughed, poking Olaf's nose. Hans, in turn, scoffed at the thought of a snowman attending a royal wedding.

Sighing, she righted herself. Elsa knew that this topic would come up eventually, and now that her coronation was right around the corner, it was an inevitable matter to discuss. She had been betrothed to Hans when she was eight—that was nearly ten years ago.

She shivered, her eyelids icing over. It felt like an eternity since then.

* * *

Their first meeting had been nothing special. A simple diplomatic dinner, arranged by both of their fathers. The entire Westergaard family had sailed from their sunny homeland to discuss their future with Arendelle.

Elsa vividly remembered coming to the castle's dining room, her hand held by Queen Idun's. She was met with various smells, sounds and voices, none of which she recognized. All of the guests had different accents, the food was from a different country, and even the servants were obviously under the service of the Westergaards, and not that of her own parents.

She could feel something icing over within her stomach. As if to prevent this ice from escaping her gloves, she bunched her hands into fists at her sides, hidden beneath her long sleeves. She longed to hide her scarred cheek behind a curtain of hair like she usually did, but her tight bun prevented her from doing so. Her mother had reassured her countless times that no one could tell it was even there, and that she had nothing to fear. But Elsa couldn't ignore the maids and servants that eyed her suspiciously. It had been that way for two months now, since Anna had been sent off.

Elsa forced herself to forget all concern about her face and looked around herself. Already seated around the colossal dining table were her father, the king of Arendelle and all fifteen members of the Southern Isles' own royal family. Fourteen men, one woman. At the sight of them, Elsa straightened her back even more, sucking in her stomach. She decided that she would not be intimated by a group of boys.

"Queen Idun and Crown Princess Elsa of Arendelle!" Kai announced, shutting the doors behind Elsa and her mother. All the people at the table were silenced and turned to look at them. Elsa felt uncomfortable with the stares, the temperature drop making it obvious. To comfort her, the queen placed a soft hand on her daughter's shoulder and guided her towards her usual seat next to her parents.

Once she sat down and the conversation started up once again, Elsa took the opportunity to look around the table. At the head were, as usual, her parents, seated together. To their right was a middle-aged couple whom she assumed were the king and the queen of the Southern Isles. And then, there were all the princes, who appeared to be seated in order of oldest to youngest. This youngest prince was left right next to Elsa. By his slouched posture and obnoxiously indifferent demeanour, Elsa guessed that he was runt of the litter. He didn't notice the princess' stare, instead seeming quite interested with the scratches on his salad fork.

"Hello," Elsa said softly, folding her hands in her lap. She was the picture of poise and dignity, a princess worth her salt. She imagined that she didn't have ice creeping to her toes or an obvious burn scar on her face.

She was left without a response. The boy continued to fiddle with the cutlery.

"How are you enjoying your meal, Prince?"

"The meal hasn't come yet, Princess," he said with a certain amount of venom in his tone.

"Oh. I see," said Elsa. She sat back, feeling insulted by his behaviour. She huffed indignantly and turned her attention to her gloved hands. She wished that she could return to her rooms and play with her toys; they were considerably less rude than this boy.

Finally, a throng of servants came from the kitchens and presented the main course. Once all the dishes were set and everyone had served themselves, the two kings went on about political matters while the queens chattered about the latest books they had read. Most of the princes were locked in a heated debate about whether sword fighting or archery was the greatest pastime. Hans and Elsa were the only ones that remained quiet. Elsa was daintily eating her grilled fish and Hans simply stared ahead, obviously deep in thought. Rolling her eyes, she turned her attention to the kings.

"Adgar, have we at last come to an agreement about this marriage union?"

The question capturing the princess' attention. _Marriage,_ she mused. _What a thrilling topic._

"Yes, the decree is written and waiting in my study. All I need is your signature, Elias," King Adgar replied.

Elias Westergaard clapped his hands together and grinned. This caught the attention of many more, half the princes and both queens. "The betrothal between Elsa of Arendelle and Hans of the Southern Isles is now cemented. They are to be wed once they come of age, and given that another heir does not come along, Hans is to rule by Elsa's side when she is queen," he exclaimed, his satisfaction apparent on his face. He was probably relieved that he managed to find a suitable match for his thirteenth son.

By then, everyone had turned to the king. Applause rose up in the room at the announcement.

Elsa and Hans both looked about themselves, distressed. "What?! I don't, I…I don't even know him!"

She let out a whine as Idun patted her frail shoulder. "Calm down, Dear. It's customary for a royal's betrothed to be chosen for them at an early age. I've been through it, and so has your father. Prince Hans will make a fine husband—a good king as well," said the queen.

"But _Papa_ ," Hans knocked the table, "I don't want to marry her! She's _weird_!"

"Hans, none of this is up for debate. Besides, once Princess Elsa becomes queen, you will be the king of your very own kingdom! Doesn't that sound exciting?"

"No."

"Stop complaining, _Little Brother_ ," one of the princes sneered. "You're ruining this evening for all of us."

Hans puffed up his cheeks. "I don't care about being a king; I just don't want to live with _you_ ," he mumbled under his breath. Luckily for him, his father didn't hear his snide comment.

The cold rose up to Elsa's cheeks, and she could feel her lips numbing. Her fingers were as hard as stone beneath the fabric of her gloves. Frost began to cover her chair. She forced herself to breathe, to dispel the ice that consumed her toes.

Her spine became rigid as she noticed that Hans' gaze had slipped on her. His eyes had widened, his expression one of both awe and fear. She knew what he saw: a girl with glazed eyes, blue lips, glittering skin, with snowflakes decorating her body. This is what happened when she was agitated. She became an ice statue, a figment of a girl.

"Don't say anything," Elsa hissed to him. She was fortunate enough to have not yet drawn the attention of the others, and she wanted to keep it that way. It always worried her parents to see her as an ice statue, and she didn't need to upset them so in front of their guests.

Hans nodded, mesmerized. It were as if he knew of her peculiarities and understood the severity of her situation, although there was no way that he could've been aware of her power beforehand. It was not something that the king and queen advertised, especially after what happened with their exiled youngest. Hans courteously tore his gaze from her and went back to staring at his plate.

Once everyone had finished their meals—excepted Elsa and Hans—and all the dishes had been cleared, that evening's dessert was brought out. Elsa gulped. Laid before her was a plate of wildberry krumkake, adorned with vanilla ice cream—the princess' usual favourite. However, instead of devouring it, she stared at it with a void expression. She had lost all desire to eat. This tended to happen when she froze over.

Idun was quick to notice her daughter's unusual lack of appetite. "Elsa, what's wrong? I thought krumkake was your favo—" Her breath caught in her throat. The sight of Elsa's condition made her fall silent.

Elsa put a hand to her face, trying to cover the evidence of her panic. "I'm sorry, Mama. I couldn't help it."

Idun sighed. "You're excused for the evening. Be sure to go straight to your rooms and request a warm bath, Dear." Her gaze softened. She then brushed back some of Elsa's frozen hair that wisped around her face. "Next time you feel sick, tell me before it gets like this," she whispered.

Elsa nodded. The two kings had once again struck up an inane political conversation and all the princes, except Hans, were talking rather loudly about Arendelle's military. The queen of the Southern Isles was eating her dessert peacefully and Hans was still staring at his fork. Taking a deep breath, Elsa slipped off her chair and tiptoed to the door.

For the most part, she had managed to avoid anyone's gaze…save for that of the thirteenth prince, whose stare was glued to her frozen back even after she had left the room.

* * *

 **Please don't forget to fave, follow and review! Every read is greatly appreciated! :)**

 **~Banana Kisses**


	4. Three

**This is not a chapter. There will be no chapter for a while, my harasser. I will not give 'more than three' chapters anytime soon. I am finishing school, I have a dozen exams, I recently got a job and I'm dealing with a lot of personal issues. I also have many more stories that are higher on the priority list. Unlike you, Blitz Lover or whatever the hell you like to call yourself, I'm not a four-year-old twit that has the time to I don't have the time to spend on daddy's computer sucking my thumb and harassing people online. Grow the fuck up, you asshole. And stop spamming my other stories with your bullshit.**

 **If you leave me one more review ON ANY OF MY STORIES, INCLUDING THIS ONE, BLITZ LOVER, I'm deleting this fic forever. I thought I'd rewrite it for myself, to tell the story the way I want to, but your fucking dick spam and harassment make me never want to look at it again. Writers are not your personal cows to squeeze work out of. I write for free and on my own time. It's not too much to demand respect.**

 **To those who genuinely enjoy my work, I'm very sorry that you have to see this and that there isn't more of this story. I just don't know what else to do. This harassment has been going on for over a year and a half now. Please forgive me.**

 **To Blitz Lover, fuck off. Just fuck off. I can't take it anymore.**

 **—Bitch Banana Kisses**


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